


i desire the things which will destroy me in the end

by Aseikh



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: ? - Freeform, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Estrangement, Friendship/Love, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, Major Character Injury, Panic Attacks, Past Character Death, Platonic Cuddling, Post-TRR, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, The One TRR Scene We Deserved, Violence, somewhat happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-10
Updated: 2020-11-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27484414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aseikh/pseuds/Aseikh
Summary: With Maddie's nearly fatal thigh injury, Will decides to bring her back to Castle Araluen where she can rest and recover in comfort. However, that in turn puts him into an uncomfortable position: having to explain to her parents how their daughter nearly died because of him.
Relationships: Cassandra | Evanlyn & Will Treaty, Horace Altman & Will Treaty, Madelyn "Maddie" & Will Treaty
Comments: 10
Kudos: 48





	i desire the things which will destroy me in the end

**Author's Note:**

> This ENTIRE fic is literally based off ONE LINE in TRR: "She saved my life, he thought. How can I face Horace and Evanlyn if I let her die?"
> 
> (If I forgot to tag something please let me know!! I know this is a heavy fic and I wrote half of it a few months ago so I don't remember everything.)

Will limped into the grand stables of Castle Araluen, thankful that the courtyard was empty except for the curious eyes of the night watch. Any more eyes on them and word would have gotten around the castle before Will could say anything himself. And it wasn’t that he wanted to hide the events of the past few days … he just wanted the conversation to be friend to friend, rather than Ranger to Queen Regent and Champion Knight.

“I still don’t get why we had to come here,” Maddie murmured to him from her spot on Bumper, “Redmont—”

“Redmont might have been closer as the crow flies,” Will responded softly, pulling Tug around and into an empty stall on the left. “But the terrain would have been more strenuous for you. I didn’t want to risk ripping your stitches.” He had gone around the courtyard to stables where permanent residents kept their horses, where he knew only a limited number of people would be allowed in, and none at this hour. He had immediately gone towards the back, where he knew a few extra stalls would always be kept open. In the space next to Tug, a large, black battlehorse looked over at him. Will smiled, recognizing the old horse, and Tug nickered, recognizing his old friend. In the stalls behind them, Will saw Blaze and Cassandra’s horse and Horace’s current battlehorse, Stamper. Kicker was too old to ride into battle or places, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t get a life of luxury.

Without going over Tug, Will then proceeded to lead Bumper into the next stall. Maddie sat stiffly in the saddle, where Will had had to make up a piece that would keep Maddie sitting up, but also allow her injured leg to rest alongside Bumper’s neck and head. As Will considered Maddie up in her saddle, she snorted, shaking her head. “You don’t have to keep worrying about the wound, Uncle Will, really, its—”

“It’s not fine, Maddie,” Will snapped, cutting her off before she could finish. She had brought this up every day since they started traveling and for some reason she and him still wouldn’t see eye-to-eye on the matter. “You could have died if things had gone differently and I’m not going to risk that again if I don’t absolutely have to.”

Instead of arguing, Maddie clamped her jaw shut, staring at him with a hurt look.

Will closed his eyes. He was, frankly, exhausted. He’d been so worried over Maddie’s injuries, so worried over getting to Araluen, that he hadn’t considered what it meant to bring her here until they were at the gates. And now that they were here, there was no way around it. It was inevitable.

He was going to have to face her parents.

Opening his eyes again, he looked back up to Maddie, sighing. “I—I’m sorry, Mads. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just … just tired.” He put a hand over his eyes, shaking his head. It was the dead of night. He’d opted to continue traveling that day to make it to Araluen, but hadn’t realized how late it was until he saw that the night watch was switching in as they rode up. That meant it was sometime past midnight, with Horace and Cassandra asleep three stories above them and on the other side of the castle.

“I know, Will,” she said back quietly, looking away from him and at the walls of the stable. “If it makes you feel better, the guard captain probably went to go wake my dad when he saw me.” She smiled down at him, placing a hand over his where it rested on Bumper’s flank.

Fuck, Will thought. He hadn’t considered the guards recognizing Maddie. They probably recognized him too, and even if they didn’t, Horace wasn’t stupid. The moment he heard that his daughter was here with a Ranger, he would know something was wrong. I’m definitely not on my best game right now, Will thought, his throbbing muscles screaming at him to just take a damn seat already. Maddie had cut him loose of the bindings before any permanent damage could be done, but the pain from the absence of blood circulating in his limbs was still there. He knew the pain was a good thing, technically, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t tired of it. His ankles could barely take his full weight, even a few days after the incident with Ruhl and the tips of his fingers were still numb. And considering the rope burns still around his wrists, he assumed they were still around his ankles and throat as well.

The moment Horace laid eyes on the two of them … Will didn’t want to think about how his friend would react. It was only a matter of time now, if Maddie was right about the guard captain seeing her. He took a deep breath, before turning to continue working on the horses.

Will started to pull Maddie’s things from Bumper’s saddlebags, hanging them over the sides of the stall so that he could help Maddie down before taking care of Tug and Bumper. They had worked out a routine of getting her up and down from her vantage point on the saddle, but he needed her things out of the way before he could take the single step up that he needed to get his arms around her. He hesitated for a moment, before picking up the bags and taking them into the next stall where Tug was at, not wanting them in the way in case they got caught on anything. Maddie watched him silently, looking bored but also slightly uncomfortable.

He’d been working on removing the bags for a few minutes when he saw Maddie move in her seat to her right. As he worked on removing the bags and transferring them over to Tug’s stall, Maddie’s hand crept up her thigh, just to where he knew her injury was.

“Do not scratch your wound,” Will growled, grabbing her wrist before her fingers could really dig in.

Maddie immediately tried wrestling her wrist out of his grip. “But it itches,” she groaned, starting to turn to scratch with her other hand.

Will’s second hand shot out across the saddle, grabbing her wrist before it could even make it close to her thigh. “Do not,” Will repeated, his voice low.

She looked at him, a look in her eyes that told him she was taking his order as a challenge, a point to argue. She opened her mouth and all Will could see was her mother, standing tall and proud above him, ready to give anyone a verbal lashing. She was confident and stubborn, smart and resourceful, just like her parents. Will felt another stab of pain, realizing for the 50th time that night that he’d nearly lost her. He had nearly lost her and it would have been his fault.

Then the vision ended and Maddie was still up in Bumper’s saddle with an indignant look to her, a face that said she was waiting for Will to respond to whatever she had said. He hadn’t heard what she’d said, though, and he was struggling to respond when a third voice broke through the shadows, startling both of them.

“Do I … want to know what’s happened?” Horace stood alone in the dark, a few feet away from them closer to the entrance of the stables. He wore what was probably his pajamas: a loose, dark colored shirt hastily shoved into his waistband, pants that hung loosely on his waist without a belt, and unlaced boots. He hadn’t forgotten his sword, though—he held the scabbard in his left hand, the belt hanging loosely from where it was attached to the scabbard.

Seeing his old friend, Will immediately regretted traveling to Araluen instead of Redmont. Horace had obviously been woken up, his hair mussed and a five-o’clock shadow darkening his jawline that he probably would have shaved come the morning. Will felt useless right then, seeing his old friend—something he hadn’t felt for ages. Even with Alyss being gone, Will had usually felt like he had had a purpose in life, had known what to do with himself—become a knight, become a Ranger, escape slavery, graduate, help his friends, his family, the people. Survive. Only when in his deepest ruts did Will ever feel absolutely useless. Seeing Horace’s eyes travel up and down Maddie, picking out her injuries and bruises, and then him, did Will felt himself shrinking into the shadows. Not because he knew Horace would be upset with him, but because he knew that he had failed at the one thing he had promised Horace when taking Maddie on—that she would be safe with him. He had failed at that, had failed at keeping a promise to his closest friend, his brother—nothing could make him feel more useless than that.

Will couldn’t take it anymore. He looked away from Horace, his hands dropping away from Maddie’s wrists. He wasn’t able to meet his friends searching, concerned eyes.

Thankfully, Maddie spoke first. “Dad! I—sorry they woke you. You’re probably tired of being woken in the middle of the night because of me, aren’t you?” she said that with a slight grin, as if trying to make fun of the situation. Will was standing on the far side of Bumper, with Maddie between him and Horace, and she was facing her father so she couldn’t see how visibly upset Will was. Even in the dark, though, Horace could, and Will could sense the knight sizing up the situation before speaking. Of course he went back to his old habits—Horace was evaluating Will’s reactions in order to calculate exactly how he should react when it was something he didn’t understand.

Falling deeper, Will wished that he simply wasn’t there. That he had dropped off Maddie and left. He couldn’t face Horace and Cassandra after Maddie’s near-death injury. He just couldn’t face their disappointment.

“Maddie … “ Horace murmured, his voice soft but obviously still confused. His eyes were off Will now, looking directly at his daughter. His gaze seemed glued to her leg and how it was propped up so that her thigh remained still. “Maddie, are you hurt?”

Will winced at the emotion in Horace’s voice. He didn’t need to look at Horace to see how broken up and shocked his friend was, reading all of it and more in the tone of his voice. He was barely holding back tears, his voice was soft and shaky but still with the slight edge to it. If necessary, Will didn’t doubt that Horace would saddle up Stamper then and there if he had to find whoever did this to her.

Little did he know that the person responsible was standing right in front of him.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Maddie turn in her spot to finally look down at Will where he stood. She couldn’t read him as well as Horace could, but Will still saw her eyebrows furrow and her lips frown before turning back to her father. “Dad … it’s a long story. Could we go upstairs first? We’ve been traveling for a few days and it would be nice to sit down and rest.”

Horace was silent for a moment, his knuckles turning white around the scabbard of his sword. Then, he nodded and glanced behind him, towards the main gate. He turned back to Will and Maddie, an eyebrow raised. “Do I need to tell the guards to be on alert? You weren’t being chased, were you?”

Maddie was shaking her head before her dad had even finished talking. “No, no, everything’s fine, Dad. Can you help me down?” Will had finished moving the bags before Horace had made his appearance, so all that needed to happen was for someone to step up to Bumper’s side and pick Maddie up. Normally, Will could manage getting her up and down with a few seconds of extra effort, but having Horace here allowed Maddie to simply get scooped up like she weighed nothing.

Horace stepped forward to help Maddie, but then hesitated when he got close to the horse. He glanced to Will. “How do you have this set up?” Horace’s hand rested on the knee of Maddie’s good leg, her bad one on the other side of Bumper.

Will shrugged, motioning vaguely at the saddle. He kept his voice low. “It’s nothing special, you should just be able to lift her from the saddle. Careful with her right leg, above the knee.”

Nodding, Horace slid his arm underneath her knees, making sure not to put too much pressure on the far leg. His other arm went behind her shoulders, and Maddie threw her arms over her dad’s necks, hugging him close as he lifted her from the saddle. He hadn’t needed a step or anything to help her down, not like Will would have needed, so he was able to simply slide out of the stall with his daughter in his arms. Without saying anything, Horace started down the main walkway of the stable, leaving Will behind in the shadows.

Will considered slipping Tug back out of his stall and riding out, now knowing that Maddie was with her family.

In reality, though, Horace had only taken a few steps back and turned to see if Will was following. “Will, hey,” he said, catching Will’s attention. He jerked his head in the direction of the exit. “Grab your bags and lets get back into the castle.”

Absently, Will grabbed Maddie’s spare clothing bag as well as his own bag and threw them over his shoulder. He hesitated, staring at the mess he’d be leaving in the stables and around Tug and Bumper. They still had their saddles on and he hadn’t had the chance to brush either of them down. It would be cruel to leave them like that, especially after all their hard work. They were the ones that got Will and Maddie to Araluen in the first place. He started to slip the leather strip from his shoulder, figuring that he could at least give the horses a rest. He could catch up to Horace and Maddie—

“Will,” Horace’s voice broke into his thoughts again, but this time he felt his friend’s foot nudge his calf. “I can ask one of the watch to take care of them, let’s get inside.”

He immediately balked at that thought. Tug was Will’s horse, his trusted companion, and he didn’t want someone else caring for him. Bumper was also his responsibility with Maddie’s injury, so he wasn’t—

“Will,” Horace said again, this time with a harder edge to his voice. “Let’s go. You’re in no shape to be caring for them right now, let someone else take over for a bit.”

Horace was right. Will knew that. Tug snorted from his stall, shaking his mane and looking away from Will. Bumper stamped one of his front legs, as if in response to Tug. “They’re fine, Uncle Will,” Maddie said softly, her voice slightly muffled from where she leaned her face against her father’s chest.

That was enough to push Will out of his haze. He resituated the straps of the two leather bags, turning to face Horace and Maddie. He gestured for them to start walking, and after making deliberate, steady eye contact with him and nodding, Horace did so, turning his back to Will and starting towards the exit of the stables.

Against his better judgment, Will followed diligently behind his friend and goddaughter. They slipped into a side door of the castle, pointedly ignoring the night watchmen as Horace whispered something to him. The man held the door open for them, but as Will stepped around him, he watched the man duck towards the stables, taking off his gloves and shoving them into his pockets. And then the door closed and Will couldn’t see where he went.

“It’s fine, Will, trust me,” Horace said softly from in front of him, the hallway dark except for where torches were placed at intervals further down. The closest torch threw Horace’s face into shadow and turned Maddie into a shadowy lump in her father’s arms. “He’s looked after Stamper for me a few times when I’ve been in a rush and has done the same for Gilan and Blaze. They’re in good hands for now.”

That settled his anxiety only slightly, but he knew he couldn’t exactly turn back now. He could check on them tomorrow morning, before he actually sat down with Horace and Cassandra to tell them what happened. He nodded, gripping the satchel’s straps harder. At first, Horace didn’t move and Will thought that he hadn’t seen him nod. But then Horace nodded back to him and turned away, walking towards the other side of the hall without a word. Will followed.

They ducked into a well-hidden, smaller hallway that followed the main corridor nearly exactly. It was slightly more cramped, but there was plenty enough room for Maddie’s legs to not hit the wall. And there were no guards, no peeping eyes. The servant hallways weren’t guarded like the main hallways, mostly because there wouldn’t be enough guards to station in both passages. So they had certain guards from the main areas patrol the servant halls at random intervals. And while they were the servant hallways, Horace and Maddie had a history of using them to avoid unwanted gazes—Maddie so she could sneak out, and Horace when he didn’t want the eyes of the court critiquing his every choice (especially when it had to do with a trip to the kitchens).

No guards came in and checked on them while they walked, going up a few levels and heading towards the western part of the castle. Until, halfway to their destination, Horace paused, his foot up on the next step. Will stopped just behind him, wondering if Horace was struggling with holding Maddie. Horace was strong and could carry Will bridal style if necessary, but not indefinitely. Maddie weighed less than Will, but he’d already been carrying his daughter for a while. If Horace could make it to the top of the steps, he could set Maddie down to rest.

All of this flew through Will’s mind before Horace had even turned around to look down at him. When he did, though, there was only a familiar look of concern mixed with suspicion on his face.

“Will?” Horace asked, his voice still low and soft but steadier than before.

“Mmm?” Will hummed back, wanting to get out of the small hallway. He wanted this whole situation over already, and stopping in the middle of the hallway wouldn’t make anything go faster. The faster they made it to the royal apartments, the sooner Will could disappear.

“Are you injured?”

Will raised his eyebrows, momentarily shocked that he was asking this halfway to their apartments. He was sore, sure, but nothing that was in need of medical attention. He looked away from Horace, not meeting his friend’s eyes. Maddie was the one who was injured—not him. And that just made everything worse. “N—no, Horace, I’m fine.” Will shook his head, staring down at the stone floor.

Silence stretched between them, Horace not saying anything in response right away. A moment later, Will heard him sigh, such a familiar, infuriating noise, and continue up the steps. Will followed silently, the bags weighing heavy on his shoulder, and guilt heavy in his chest.

It was only a few more minutes before they got to the entrance of the royal apartments, the hallway they came out in basically deserted except for the guard standing next to their door. As they made their way towards it, Horace nodded silently to the guard, who nodded back and started to move to open the door for them. Before he could do so, however, the door opened on it’s own accord from the inside, revealing a slightly taller, older version of Maddie.

Cassandra.

The Queen Regent held a singular candle in a dish, and a shawl was wrapped around her shoulders and chest to keep the cool air of the night from her bare skin. She wore a nightgown, with white slippers on her feet to pad her footsteps. She froze just outside the doorway when her eyes landed on the approaching group, the heavy wood door softly latching behind her. From her perspective, Will figured she could only see Horace approaching with a small form in his arms and another shadow following just behind him. She seemed to relax when the three of them finally stepped into the ring of candlelight, and a relieved smile spread across her face.

But then she seemed to register who Horace was carrying and who was following behind her husband, and her eyes widened. “What happened?” she demanded, stepped forward and placing a hand on Maddie’s cheek. “Are you okay?” she asked her daughter, eyes roving over her and landing directly on the wrapped and bandaged thigh. Thankfully, it hadn’t bled through the bandages this time, but still—a huge bandage so high up along the thigh could never be good.

“Mum, I’m fine,” Maddie started to say, her head coming up from where it had rested against Horace’s chest.

“She was hurt during the mission that Gilan sent her and Will on,” Horace said, resituating the hold he had on his daughter. His arms were starting to get tired, but he would be able to carry her for a little while longer—if his wife moved out of the way.

“I—what?” Cassandra said, her voice rising in the empty hallway. “How? What happened?” she spun in place and took a threatening step towards Will, who stood just behind and to the side of Horace. She raised up the candle so it was level with their faces, the anger and disbelief and hurt obvious in her eyes. “Who did this, Will? How could you have let this happen?”

Will flinched, hating that last comment despite knowing it was true. He had let this happen to Maddie—he should’ve been more vigilant, should have realized she had been in the line of danger sooner. Maybe he had been dazed and maybe he’d been only half-conscious, but Cass was right—he had let it happen to Maddie. It was his fault.

“Cass, really—” Horace tried, but she cut him off without even hearing him.

“Didn’t—Didn’t Gilan say he was giving you an open and shut case?” Cassandra snapped, overwhelmed and pointing all of that energy towards Will as Horace stood with Maddie awkwardly to the side. Will didn’t even want to think about how weird it was for that guard at the door, literally only a few feet from them, to be watching this. But at the same time, in Will’s mind, he deserved this, so he didn’t try to stop Cass when she kept going. “He said it would be fine, that it would be easy, and that you were both ready for it! What happened? You said you wouldn’t let anything happen to her, and we trusted you! How—how did this happen? How could you let this happen? Gilan said it was easy, Will, I don’t get it. Of all people, seriously, Will, I don’t—”

Will’s anger flared, the exhaustion that was literally etched into his bones screaming at him to sit down and take a goddamn break. But here was Cassandra, rightfully angry, keeping him from a potential rest. “Easy?” Will snapped, finally, wanting to hit something. But he wouldn’t—he would never. He would be closer to punching a wall and breaking his hand then hitting someone because of his own fuck up. “Easy?” he laughed this time, closing his eyes tightly, feeling the tears prick at the corner of his eyes. “Fuck, Cass. That was one hell of an easy mission, considering we were investigating the murder of another Ranger and a goddamn slave ring, Cass.” His voice cracked, the stress of the past few days weighing heavy on his shoulders. He wanted to cry, to fall into the arms of one of his family, and talk about this later.

But really, he didn’t have much of a right to give into that. Maybe it had been stressful and exhausting for him, but he wasn’t the one who had gotten injured. He wasn’t the one who had nearly died.

Cassandra looked shocked for a moment, not used to Will snapping back at her like that with the level of anger he had. In that moment, though, Will’s anger deflated, and he knew that whatever furious insult he could see building in Cass was one he would deserve.

He closed his eyes, knowing that he shouldn’t have said anything. He should have just let her yell at him. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head and covering his eyes with a hand. “I—I shouldn’t have—” he stopped talking. Saying more would probably just make it worse.

Narrowing her eyes, Cass opened her mouth. “I—”

“Cass,” Horace broke in before anything else could be said, this time his voice slightly louder and exasperated. “They’ve been through a lot, and really don’t need to be interrogated right now. But if we’re going to do this, can I at least put down our daughter before I drop her,” he said flatly, all the softness in his voice from before completely gone. This was Horace when he was tired and exasperated, the Horace who didn’t want to deal with conflicting, complicated emotions or words when everyone involved needed a good night’s rest first and foremost. The Horace who saw friends or family in a mess or mistake and knew that they needed a shoulder to lean on rather then someone yelling at them.

Will looked away from both of them—he didn’t deserve either of them. He didn’t deserve Horace’s kindness or even Cassandra’s (well-intended, righteous) anger that only showed how much she cared. What he did deserve, though, was to be ignored. To be left behind in the hallway, having returned their child alive. To be cut out of their lives before he could make it worse—it was already pretty bad.

But of course that didn’t happen.

“Let’s go inside,” Horace murmured to Cass, moving Maddie again in his arms so that she wouldn’t slip further. She winced at the movement, looking between her mother and Will, her eyes wide. “Will,” Horace said, turning to him, his voice audibly tired once again. “C’mon.”

“I don’t think—” Will started to say, hoping that he could get away with ‘giving them privacy,’ maybe convince them that he would get a room for the night, stay with Gilan or something. Anything to get out of going into their apartments and being trapped in there with them.

“You’re coming inside,” Horace said, his voice firm. Final.

Knowing Horace, Will knew wasn’t getting out of this. There was simply no way around it.

“Yes,” Cassandra, said, crossing her arms and barely keeping her sleeve out of the candle’s flame. “You’re coming inside.” She repeated, nodding. Her eyes studied Will’s face for a moment, looking him up and down before once again meeting his eyes. Maybe she thought back to her words and regretted them, or maybe she saw something about him that told her more then what was being said. But either way, he watched as the anger and hardness in her eyes suddenly melted out of her posture. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, suddenly pulling Will into a one-armed hug, keeping the candle at arms length. “I didn’t mean any of that,” she mumbled into his shoulder. She stepped back, looking at him up and down again. “You look like shit,” she said, her voice now at a normal level.

“Let’s go,” Horace said again, shaking his head at his wife. “I can’t hold her up forever.”

Seeming to sense Will’s unease, Cassandra hooked her arm around Will’s, the side free of the satchels. In two pairs, they started for the doorway to the royal apartments, the soldier already stepping to open the door for them. Horace nodded his thanks to the man, turning slightly so that Maddie’s head missed the door jam.

Will didn’t remember the last time he had been in these apartments, but barely anything had changed about them from what he could see. The royal apartments were wider, grander then the rest of the apartments meant for other nobles and knights in the rest of the castle. There was a sitting area directly in front of them, with comfortable, cushy couches and chairs, with hallways at either side of the room heading to other rooms. Past the sitting area, closed windows showed off a view of the rest of the castle, looking down into a flowering courtyard. If he remembered correctly, down one hallway was Horace and Cassandra’s shared a room and another room next to that was an office or study, and then on the opposite side was Maddie’s old room and a guest room. At least, that’s what he thought. There was a small kitchenette somewhere as well, but it could have changed for all he knew.

Without any words passed between them, Horace started carrying Maddie to the left, where Will last remembered her room being. Cassandra walked in that direction too, her arm still latched to Will and inevitably dragging him along. They went down a short hallway, first passing a closed door. Horace stopped at the end of the hallway, and Cassandra slipped from Will’s side to open up the door for her husband. Will saw a flash of the inside, of a lavishly decorated room that reminded Will of when Maddie was younger—maybe around twelve or thirteen.

Horace walked quickly across the room, setting his daughter down gently in the made bed that had been left sparkling clean for her return. Will nervously looked around, not letting his gaze fall on either of his friends or Maddie. He didn’t step into the room, either, feeling awkward being there in the first place. Just looking around, it didn’t really look like what he’d pictured Maddie’s room to look like. Sure, he saw splashes of her: old slings that had broken or were in need of repair, different rocks she’d picked up on her adventures, and a messy desk that revealed that she probably hadn’t been as caught up in her studies as her parents thought.

As Maddie settled herself on the bed, Cassandra finally turned once again to look at Will, her eyes narrowed and lips pursed. “Will,” she started, setting the candle down on Maddie’s bedside table and crossing her arms again. “I—I know you’re probably stressed and tired, but just—what happened? How did Maddie get—”

“Cass,” Horace interrupted, his voice also sounding tired. He set a hand on his wife’s shoulder, squeezing it slightly. “It looks like she’s doing fine for now, I think this can wait until tomorrow.” The knight gestured at Will, who, now that he was made aware of it, realized that he was slouched over and leaning against the doorway. “They’re both exhausted. They need to rest first.”

Cass didn’t seem to agree with that. She shook her head adamantly, looking between her husband, her daughter, and one of her oldest friends. “I realize that, I just—do you really think you can sleep tonight after having these two show up like this?”

Maddie snorted from her spot in her bed, shaking her head and looking between her parents. She was probably used to their married-couple bickering. But what she didn’t realize was that this was different.

Neither of her parents turned and looked at her when she made the noise, instead focusing on the other. Horace shook his head, “Cass, that doesn’t matter in this situation, either way. Even if we demand answers right now, they’re going to both pass out.”

The princess-regent pursed her lips again, but then looked over at Will and raised an eyebrow. They were both considering the other’s words, wondering if their stance was the correct one. But now Horace was looking at Maddie, who was spread out on her large bed and already started to doze off.

His eyes were locked onto the bandage and her leg.

He sighed. “Actually,” he said, his voice sounding stressed, “just—just one thing.” He turned and looked at Will. “What … what hurt her? That’s a huge wound, especially for the leg area—” his voice cracked, and Will suddenly hated himself even more then he already did. “What could have …” Horace trailed off, looking over to Will and searching his gaze.

Saying outright that it was a javelin, though, seemed like a bad idea. They would wonder how their daughter had gotten hit by such a large weapon. So, wanting to push off the explanation until the morning like Horace had originally wanted, Will tried something else. He rubbed the back of his neck, not looking up to meet Horace’s gaze. Cassandra was staring at him as well. “I—well, one thing kind of led to another,” he said, voice low and quiet. “So I feel like if you want to wait until morning …” Will trailed off, feeling like he was going to puke.

But of course Horace thought otherwise. “Will, just—what caused it? I promise, we’ll get you settled after this, and we can talk in the morning.”

Will stayed silent for a moment, staring at the wound on Maddie’s thigh. Then, he brought his eyes up, making eye-contact with Maddie. She looked confused, as if she didn’t understand why he wasn’t saying anything. She tipped her head at him, as if trying to say ‘just tell them’ without actually saying it.

“It—” his voice cracked, and he tried to clear it. He looked down the hallway, wondering if there was an escape route. But Horace was right—he felt like he was going to pass out at any moment. He just needed to answer the question, and then they’d find a bed for him and that would be that. He could rest. “A javelin—a javelin was thrown and—”

“What the fuck?” Cassandra said, the ‘unladylike’ words slipping from her lips before he could say anything else. No one in the room cared about the words though—it was the sudden force of them splitting the silence in the room that caused the others to whip around to look at her.

Will flinched, feeling worse by the second.

He didn’t want to look up, but he forced himself to. He met eyes with Horace reluctantly, who was staring at his with wide eyes that told him that his friend was shocked and upset at the whole ordeal. He looked … betrayed. Will looked away.

“How the hell did that happen?” Cassandra started up again, the fury from out in the hallway coming back in full force. “How the hell did my daughter get hit with a goddamned javelin, Will? That’s not exactly something that happens regularly. How the hell—I just—”

“Mum—” Maddie suddenly cut in. But Cassandra just kept going. “MUM,” the young girl tried louder, leaning forward from her spot in the bed to grab the edge of her mother’s sleeve. “MOTHER.”

Cassandra turned and looked at her, placing a hand on her cheek and looking her over again. She was probably looking for more cuts or bruises other injuries that she hadn’t noticed before. “Maddie, how—are you hurt anywhere else? Was it just the javelin? How did this—”

“Mom, stop!” Maddie finally said, pulling away from her with an exasperated look. She scoffed at her mother, rolling in her bed to put distance between her and the searching hands. “It’s okay—it was literally just a javelin, Uncle Will was able to help me right away, too! And it wasn’t his fault, either,” Maddie said, looking over at her father. She reached towards Horace as well, trying to get her point across. “He was barely conscious, he couldn’t prevent it, so I just tried to protect him, and—”

“Wait, what?” now it was Horace’s turn to be shocked. He jerked backwards out of Maddie’s reach, spinning in Will’s direction and his eyes going between his friend and Maddie. He considered the words that had slipped from Maddie’s mouth for a moment, before shaking his head, and repeating, “You were protecting Will?”

At first, Maddie didn’t say anything, looking at her two parents that were now looking at her in shock. “Shit,” she muttered, looking at Will.

Now, both turned to look at Will, shock turning to concern. “Fuck,” Will closed his eyes and covered them with a hand, now sure that he would definitely puke in the next five minutes.

“Wait,” Horace said, holding up a finger at Will. “Wait,” he took a step towards Will.

“Dad—” Maddie said now, “listen, don’t—don’t be mad at him because I was protecting him, please,” she said. “Me getting a javelin in the hip is better then Will getting one in the chest, and I didn’t want to lose him, please—”

Horace seemed to be shocked into silence, his hands going up to run through his hair. “Maddie, I’m not mad,” he said, his voice strained. But then he looked over to Will, the look his gave him looking absolutely heartbroken and alarmed. Were there … tears? In his eyes? “Will, are you—are you hurt? I didn’t—Why haven’t you said anything? I asked you in the hall, why didn’t you—”

Will held up his hands, waving at Horace to calm down. “Horace, I—I’m not hurt,” he said, voice low and worried. “I—”

“Yes, he is,” Maddie suddenly cut in again, “He was tied up for a while,” she said, pointing at him, “and he was complaining about numbness in his hands and feet when we were traveling.”

“Maddie—” Will glared at her, now refusing to look at Horace or Cassandra. She was so much like her parents, he knew, and sometimes that drove him up the wall.

“And he’s got some nasty rope burns,” she added. He glared over at her, warning her with a look to shut up. She was still his apprentice, and she should respect his wishes. She smiled at him, and as a final jab said, “I think he has some broken ribs too.”

“Maddie,” he snapped again. This was basically a betrayal, especially when he had previously asked her to not alarm her parents too much. It was seriously—

“Oh my god,” Cassandra said, walking towards Will. He was about to move out of her way, not wanting her to grab him. Instead, she started to walk past him. “I’m calling the healer.”

Will’s stomach dropped, and he snatched out at her, grabbing her wrist before she could make it out the doorway. “Cass, please,” he said, “that’s not necessary.” He looked back at Horace, who had stepped closer to him with a look of concern. If he didn’t talk them out of this right now, he was sure that they would forcibly make him see the healer. “I looked after my own injuries,” he explained quickly, “the numbness is temporary, and I’ve been taking care of the rope burns and ribs.”

Cass looked at him. From his other side, Horace and Maddie stared at him as well.

Horace looked back at his daughter and raised an eyebrow, as if asking if Will was lying or not. But she nodded, confirming that he was telling the truth.

The princess pulled her arm out of Will’s hand, looking at him. She crossed her arms. “And what about Maddie? Her wound—”

“Will was trained by Malcolm, honey,” Horace pointed out, “I’m sure he was able to do a good job looking over it.”

Not wanting anyone else involved, Will quickly nodded. “I checked it earlier today,” he said, “I gave her stitches and have been keeping the bandage tight and double wrapped. I would say it should be cleaned and given new bandages tomorrow. Call the healer in the morning.”

Cassandra hesitated again, looking at him. She looked over to her daughter, studying at her. The four of them fell silent, all studying one another in the dim lighting of the room. It was still late, and the rest of the castle was probably dead asleep, completely unaware of the events going on in the royal apartments.

There was a deep sigh, and Horace suddenly stepped forward to place a kiss on top of his daughter’s head.

“You get some rest, darling,” he murmured, closing his eyes briefly before stepping back just slightly. Cassandra took her lead from Horace, stepping back towards Maddie and kissing her cheek as well. She brushed Maddie’s messy hair out of her face, running her fingers through it as she considered her daughter more closely. The young apprentice looked up at her mother, smiling warmly. Maddie reached out, wrapping her arms around her mother’s waist. The mother, father, and daughter embraced for a brief moment. Will felt warmth in his chest for a moment, glad that he was able to bring them together one last time.

They were distracted now.

Will started to turn away, stepping silently into the hallway to leave them alone.

“Will.” Horace’s voice froze him only a few steps out of the room, anchoring his feet in place. As the Ranger turned to face his friend, arms crossed and hunched over, Horace closed the door to Maddie’s room softly behind him. “You should know by now that it’s not that easy to get away from me,” Horace murmured.

Looking away from him, Will kept his face neutral so that Horace wasn’t worried again for another reason. The knight opened his mouth to say something when Maddie’s door opened once again, Cassandra stepping out.

“You better not continue this conversation without me!” Maddie’s voice called out.

Cass looked back into the room at that, smiling and shaking her head in fondness.

“Tomorrow!” Horace called back, forcing a laugh into his voice.

Will stood quietly in the hallway as Cass and Horace said goodnight, knowing that he was caught and that there was no chance he was making it out of there now. Once the door closed once again, Horace turned back to Will, his face falling out of the forced smile as he considered his friend.

Then, without another word, Horace gestured to the only other door in the hallway—the guest bedroom.

“I don’t—” Will started, needing to try one last time.

“You need to rest, Will,” Horace said gently, stepping closer to him and putting an arm around his shoulders. In the brief moment before the guilt came crashing down again, Will felt at home and safe in Horace’s arms. It had been so long since he’d been touched in such away by his family, he almost wanted to—no. He couldn’t.

Will closed his eyes and let Horace direct him into the spare bedroom, where a simple, queen-sized bed with thick covers and fluffy pillows awaited him. It was a smaller room, probably about half the size of Maddie’s, but it was enough for any guests that would be staying with the royal family. Horace walked Will to the bed, gently but forcibly helping him sit on the edge of the soft mattress.

“Do you really think any of us are going to sleep tonight?” Cassandra asked from the doorway, looking at the two of them.

Horace shrugged and stood up from his spot beside Will. “It’s not like it matters, Cassie,” he said, gesturing at Will as if he wasn’t apart of the conversation. “Maddie’s probably already asleep and Will looks like he’s going to pass out any second now. Maybe we won’t, but they definitely have to.”

Will looked down to his lap, not wanting to face either of them any longer. He mumbled a quick thanks and closed his eyes briefly, already feeling his body sway. Silence met his thanks, until he heard Cassandra murmur a “Goodnight, Will,” and step out of the doorway. Horace’s steps followed a moment behind her’s, but they hesitated at the doorway.

“Will,” Horace said again, calling Will’s attention back to the world of the living. Seeing that his friend was looking at him, the knight hesitantly grabbed onto the door jam, other hand on the door handle. “Are you … are sure you’re okay? Do you need anything?” He looked concerned, like he wasn’t entirely sure Will would be there after he closed the door.

Wanting—no, needing—his friend to have some peace of mind, Will forced a smile. “I’m okay, Horace,” he said, “I’ll be fine until morning.”

That seemed to placate Horace for a moment, and he started to close the door, head slightly nodding, when he paused again. “And you are going to be here in the morning, correct?” he was looking at Will again, this time his eyes narrowed in suspicion. He wasn’t stupid—he’d noticed every single time Will’s eyes had gone for the door, he’d noticed every attempt to get out of the situation.

At first, Will didn’t know what to say. But he also knew that Horace wouldn’t leave until he agreed, and he had no doubt that Horace was going to inform the guard outside their rooms to not let Will leave. That would force Will to leave through the windows, which he physically couldn’t do right now due to his injuries. He sighed. “Yes, Horace,” he finally said, looking at his friend.

Still, Horace didn’t leave. “Promise?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Will snorted. “Horace, seriously, I don’t—”

Horace tipped his head at Will, once again narrowing his eyes. “I’m not going to leave until—”

“Fine!” Will cut in, throwing his hands up. “I promise. Happy?”

The knight smiled at his friend, and he once again started to close the door. But then he paused again.

“Will,” he said again. “Are you—”

“I already said I’m fine, Horace,” Will said, rolling his eyes and falling back into the bed. He felt like he could fall asleep right then and there, but kept his eyes open for Horace’s sake. “You don’t need to ask five times.”

Horace stared at him blankly. “You know that’s not what I was going to ask about, Will.” His voice was low, serious, like it had been back in the stables.

Will stared up at the ceiling, immediately understanding what he meant. He had been going to ask if Will was okay, again, but not if he was physically okay. He had been going to ask if something else was okay. He was silent for a while, simply staring at the ceiling as if it held all of the answers.

The two of them had been friends for so long, had known the other for nearly their entire lives. Horace was one of the few people who could see through all of Will’s barriers. He could see that Will was mentally and emotionally in tatters, something having ripped what remained of his heart out and smashed it.

Horace could tell just how broken Will was, in that moment.

Closing his eyes, Will took a deep breath before looking back to his friend. “… that’s … just another conversation for tomorrow,” Will responded finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Silence fell between them, Horace staying in the partially closed doorway of the dark room. Will turned his head to look at his friend, seeing the tall knight looking at him in concern. Will forced another smile, wanting to be alone. “Go to bed, Horace,” he whispered. “I promise I’ll be here in the morning.”

Horace remained in the doorway for a moment. And then, “Alive?” he whispered back, voice cracking.

Will felt his heart sink, as if disappointed that that route was also being taken from him. But he simply couldn’t say no to Horace. “Alive.”

* * *

His eyes opened to darkness.

Will blinked once, twice, trying to clear his vision. But no—the room was still dark, enveloped in deep shadows. He turned in the bed that wasn’t his, feeling the scratchy sheets covering his body pulling at him to stay still. He was still wearing all of his clothes, including his boots, and he took the time to sit up to pull the dirty boots off his feet and throw them to the side. He had no doubt that the covers were caked in dirt, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it now. He unlatched his cloak, releasing his throat from it’s choke-hold.

He tried staying in bed for a bit more, staring at the ceiling in the darkness, but it didn’t last long. The bed was too soft.

Standing from his spot, Will walked over to the window, pushing open the curtains to see how far away morning was.

It was still pitch dark.

Not really caring but still wondering, Will estimated that he’d been asleep for maybe only a few hours. Morning was still a bit away, but not far—he could just barely see the sky starting to lighten in the distance.

He sighed, turning back into the room to look at where he’d gotten himself. As he’d noticed before, there wasn’t much in the room. The bed he’d fallen into, a small wash basin on a table near the side of the bed, and then a few hooks near the door where he could have hung his cloak. Besides those pieces of furniture, there wasn’t much else. There were some art pieces hanging on the wall, and Will walked over to the closest one, seeing that it was a landscape painting. It looked … familiar.

It was a view of Castle Araluen from a distance from the edge of a cliff, the sun rising just behind the magnificent castle. Will looked for the artist’s signature, finally noticing it in the bottom right corner. He didn’t recognize the name, but knew that these were all one-of-a-kind pieces supplied from artists in the castle. When was the last time he’d been in this room? Is that when he would have seen it?

Will thought for a moment, glancing over at the other two paintings as he searched his memory. It had to have been a few years ago, before … before. Before Alyss … died.

He turned back to the bed, his sleep-deprived mind filling in the gaps of the memory. They’d visited Horace and Cassandra for Maddie’s thirteenth birthday, only a few months before the accident. She’d tossed herself onto the bed before Will had even put their bags down, the sun rays making her hair a beautiful golden that nearly blinded Will when he turned to look at her. She’d been so happy to see her friends, and so had Will. Her wide smile caught his eyes, and he could feel something warm and soft building in his chest. His eyes traveled to her eyes, wanting to see her one more time—

Will blinked and the vision disappeared, casting the room in darkness once again. His chest hurt, the warmth seeping out of his bones as his mind released him back into reality.

“I need sleep,” he muttered to himself, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he went back to lay down. This time, he made himself comfortable in the bed, cracking his neck to loosen it and turning towards the window.

He laid there, staring at the curtains. He wanted his mind to stop running, to give himself a break, but as he stared at the curtains, he found his thoughts going to darker places. He turned in the bed, looking towards the door. He was tempted to leave—often when he got like this, he slept better outdoors, under the stars or some forest canopy. His fingernails dug into his arm and he focused on the pain, knowing that he’d be breaking his promise to Horace that he’d be there in the morning if he left now.

But he could also feel the dark corners of his mind getting closer and closer and closer the longer he was in the room.

He turned again, wanting to see the window. Maybe he could open it, allow some cool night air in. Maybe that would sooth his mind enough to make it until morning.

Instead, he saw her. Her and her golden hair, fanned out on the other pillow, looking up at the ceiling with her eyes closed and a wide smile on her face. Will laid there, entranced, staring at her.

She started to turn to look at him, her eyes opening.

This isn’t—feeling that something was wrong, Will suddenly flung himself out of the bed, not able to breath. He forced his eyes away from the bed, heart in his throat. He needed to get out of there. He started for the door, his nails still digging into his other arm, something warm dripping down his arm.

He stopped, though, steps from the door.

He couldn’t leave.

He couldn’t break his promise to Horace.

Eyes wide, Will stood at the door, breathing fast as he considered his options. If he stayed in the room, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it until morning. But he couldn’t leave, no, he’d promised Horace that he wouldn’t leave.

“There’s a couch in the sitting room,” Will told himself, speaking quietly out loud to ground himself. He forced himself to move, wrenching his hand off his other arm, and forcing it to take the door handle. He forced himself to open the door and get out of the room. He had to force himself to stay his course towards the sitting room and not the front door, knowing he wouldn’t get far. He rounded the corner in a half-run, feeling like something was chasing him out of the room.

“Will?” a voice said the moment he stumbled into the room. They sounded confused, worried.

“What are you doing up?” another said.

Will blinked, clearing his vision and seeing the only two people it could be. Horace and Cassandra. Horace was standing only a few feet from him, having stood from the couch he’d apparently been sitting on. Will took the single step down into the room, stumbling slightly over his feet. Horace caught him instinctively with a hand on his upper arm. Seeing that he was off-balance, Horace helped him sit down next to him on the couch.

“What’s wrong?” the knight’s voice said, piercing through the cloud in Will’s mind. He felt a gentle hand go over his arm. The arm where—

Horace raised his hand quickly, obviously feeling the warm stickiness on him. “What the—”

Will was silent, letting his mind clear as Horace and Cassandra started to speak softly and quickly. Being in others’ presence usually helped when this … happened. He hadn’t realized Horace and Cass would still be awake out in the sitting room rather then their bedroom, but he couldn’t have been happier to see them. Still not saying anything, Will leaned into Horace’s side, resting his head against his shoulder like a pillow.

The knight was obviously confused, eyes stuck on the blood on Will’s arm. He said something to Cassandra that Will didn’t hear, and the Princess-Regent left the room for a moment, returning with something in her hand. A moment later and Will was feeling a damp cloth going over the place on his arm he’d dug his nails into. Water dripped down the side of his arm, but he didn’t say anything. Horace wiped the blood away, raising the cloth to see whatever wound Will had reopened.

Until he saw that it wasn’t an old wound, but a new one.

The half-moon imprints of his nails were obvious now that the blood was gone.

Both Horace and Cassandra fell silent at seeing them, realizing what they were. Realizing that Will had done that to himself.

“Will …” Cassandra said from her spot, standing in front of him and her husband. Her arms were crossed and there was a deep frown on her face.

“Why did you—” Horace started, but then cut himself off. This wasn’t the first time. Maybe it had been a while since Will had hurt himself in such a way, but it wasn’t entirely shocking to them either.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Will said, his voice completely flat and emotionless. He kept his head resting against Horace’s shoulder as he stared down at his arm. He hadn’t actually meant to hurt himself, he wanted to say. He had panicked, had felt himself start to slip away and needed something more to ground him. If he could have done something else, he would have. But in that moment … he hadn’t known what. “I didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Horace stopped him, holding the cloth over his arm. The wounds weren’t deep, just barely deep enough to bleed, and the continued pressure had pushed more blood out. The three of them fell silent as Horace held Will’s arm to stop the bleeding. “Did … did you want to talk?”

He was silent for a moment, considering the question. If he started talking now, it was unlikely that the talking would stop. They would want to know if he was alright, if something had happened or if he had had a nightmare. One thing would lead to another, and then he would have to explain what had happened to Maddie. Why it had happened to Maddie. Why he hadn’t been able to stop it.

For a moment, he wasn’t going to say anything.

But then—“I couldn’t sleep,” he said softly. “Or, well, I did sleep. For a bit. I just woke up and I—I couldn’t fall back asleep.”

Horace nodded slightly, still holding onto Will. The Ranger could see his friend’s hand strain, as if he wanted to hold onto him as hard as he could. But he was also holding himself back, to stop himself from hurting Will any further.

Cassandra spoke when Horace didn’t, moving to sit in an armchair on the other side of the couch, closest to Horace. “Was something keeping you awake?” she asked quietly, crossing her legs. She was still wearing the same nightgown and robe, and even for the dead of night, she seemed well put-together compared to Will.

Will looked up, meeting her eyes. He didn’t say anything at first, wondering if he really wanted to go down this route right now. Would he be able to survive it? He felt Horace’s eyes on him, and he realized that … no, he wouldn’t. Not without Horace or Cassandra. But with them here … maybe. Maybe he could.

“… the … last time I was in that room,” Will murmured, looking down. “The last time I was in there … Alyss was here.”

Neither of them responded to that.

Sighing, Will lifted his head up from Horace’s shoulder, taking the cloth out of his friend’s hand and moving slightly over on the couch so that they weren’t as close. He hesitated saying anything more, especially when neither of them said anything, but Will felt the words building in his throat and knew that he wouldn’t make it far without saying much more.

“I-it’s fine, really,” Will mumbled, still looking down in his lap. He looked at his arm, moving the cloth up and down and seeing flashes of the half-moon indents of his nails. “I just … hadn’t realized until—” until I started seeing her again.

He couldn’t say that. His friends would think he was going insane. He had never told them about seeing her before, when they’d first gotten the news. He hadn’t told anyone. Plus, he’d been around places she’d been before, so they would wonder why this place was different. They were probably wondering that right now.

“Until what, Will?” Horace asked gently, confirming Will’s thoughts. He leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees, and he looked so serious like that. Will almost wanted to laugh at that thought if he didn’t feel like he was currently falling apart. Horace? Serious?

“Until I woke up,” he said instead. He quickly swiped at his eyes, feeling as if he would start crying soon. “I just realized when I woke up and it was … more sudden then I expected.” Why—why was he being like this? He had just wanted to sit down in their presence, fall asleep knowing that they’d be there. But of course he couldn’t handle that. Not when Alyss and Maddie were now wrapped up together impossibly, Alyss’s murderer having tried to kill his niece.

It was Cassandra, of course, who didn’t buy that. “There’s got to be more to it then that, Will,” she said, tipping her head and smiling sadly. She wasn’t being as gentle as Horace was, but that was the beauty of their relationship. They were fairly different, but meshed together so well that Will wondered why he hadn’t noticed their compatibility sooner.

Horace was the one who pointed out the main problem. “Will … you haven’t been like this in … in a while. Not since Alyss …” Horace didn’t finish that statement, not wanting to say it. Her death had hurt all of them. “Something must have happened to bring this stuff back up.”

And that was exactly what Will hadn’t wanted to hear. He looked away immediately, eyeing the door. It was literally right there, if he moved fast enough, he could get out into the hallways and disappear before anyone could do anything. But also, he wouldn’t be able to move as fast as he needed—his ankles still hurt and were slightly numb, so if he ran too fast, there was no doubt they would collapse.

“Don’t even think about it, Will,” Horace muttered from his spot, resting a firm hand on Will’s shoulder. “You’re in no shape to leave.”

Will didn’t respond to that, still looking at the door.

“I feel like it’s less about if he’s in the shape to,” Cass said, responding for him. “And more about just wanting to escape this situation.”

He closed his eyes. Why had he ever allowed someone to get close enough to read him as well as these two did. It wasn’t fair.

But he also knew why—they were his family, and he wouldn’t have made it as far as he had without them. Sometimes it was a good thing that they could read him so well, even if he didn’t like it or found it frustrating.

The room fell silent around them when he didn’t respond to Cassandra’s comment. He still didn’t look up at them, not being able to form the words in that moment. But just as he realized earlier—the conversation had started: it wouldn’t end until everything had probably come out.

Sighing, Will opened his eyes back up, looking down at his arm again and seeing that the bleeding had come to a stop. It looked deeper then he’d expected, but it probably wouldn’t need bandages or anything. It wasn’t the worst injury he’d caused himself, but he would never inform Horace or Cassandra of that. They, thankfully, didn’t know that much about the last few years of his life.

“Yeah,” Will murmured, “At this point, I’ve kind of stopped keeping track of what state my body is in.”

Now it was Horace’s turn to sigh. “That’s not healthy and you know that.”

“Maybe so,” Will said back, smiling sadly, “but considering where I’m at right now, it’s probably the healthiest thing I can afford myself.”

He fell silent again, wondering if they would understand what he was saying. He wasn’t being that clear about it, really, but he didn’t know any other way to say it.

“Will,” Cassandra whispered from her spot. He looked up to her, finally, seeing only concern and worry and fear in her eyes. Was that for him? He hated that he gave her those emotions—he didn’t want to hurt her, or anymore of his family. “Please just … we want to help you,” she continued, “but we can’t help you if—if you’re not willing to let us in.”

Did he want that? No, it would probably just bring up bad and worse memories that he didn’t want to talk about. Did he … did he need it?

He wanted to say no.

Alyss would probably say yes.

“It was the mission,” he finally said, forcibly pushing the words out of himself. “The mission—it wasn’t … it wasn’t what Gilan thought it was.”

“How do you mean?” Horace asked. “Liam—”

“Liam was reported to have died in an accident with his horse, and that is the official reasoning as to why we were there,” Will murmured. He sat up from leaning against Horace, brushing his hair out of his eyes, though he still didn’t look at either of his friends. “Gilan didn’t believe that, though, and neither did I. And we were right.”

“… he was murdered, then?” Cassandra asked, recalling Will’s angry outburst outside their apartment. “Easy? That was one hell of an easy mission, considering we were investigating the murder of another Ranger and a goddamn slave ring, Cass.” She frowned, recalling the last part of his statement. “… you mentioned a slave ring, earlier,” she murmured, chewing on her bottom lip. “Is that it?”

Will nodded, fidgeting in his seat. Maybe it would be easier with them answering and asking questions like this. That way, he wouldn’t have to talk through everything all at once. That way, they would be there to support him through the story. “Maddie and I—when we got to Trelleth, we looked over the area where he died and found marks in a nearby tree. When we checked Acorn, his horse, he had marks on his legs too—rope burns. Acorn was tripped on purpose, so someone wanted Liam dead. We looked around in Liam’s cabin after that, and found some stuff in his lockbox: some town maps and lists with names and dates.”

His two friends nodded, but Horace was frowning. Will had a feeling he knew what he was going to say, even as the knight opened his mouth. “Will … how does this …”

“Just—just wait, please,” Will said. “I promise it will make sense.” When Horace nodded, Will took a deep breath, continuing. “When we investigated one of the names, it turned out that the kid was missing. Maddie went undercover as just a regular kid, and that I was her guardian, and she found out about a … a storyteller from some other kids, and this whole story he’d made up about a ‘stealer in the night,’ who takes bad children. Apparently, most of the kids that were taken came from abusive or negligent homes, so people thought they had just run away.” Will paused, waiting to see if his friends were understanding. They seemed to get what was going on, with the whole thing, so that left … that left the biggest problem: who the stealer actually was.

He fidgeted in his seat, feeling sick at the thought of saying that man’s name. After everything he had done … Will loathed the man. Before, Will was never one to say that he out-right hated someone, or that he would actually want to hurt someone for completely selfish reasons. But this man … Will was glad he was dead, glad that he had died in the way he had did. Of anyone who deserved that death, it was him. Especially after what he had done to Alyss. But if Will said to that to anyone, how he was happy with what happened to him, and that he thought he deserved it … they would be worried about him, no doubt. So he kept quiet about that. That would be one thing he’d take to his grave.

“I’m assuming you found whoever this ‘stealer,’ was,” Cassandra voiced, tapping her chin.

She had no idea.

Will closed his eyes briefly, feeling a pain rising in his chest. Just thinking about it … just thinking about the whole situation was making him sick, and knowing that his fuck up had caused Maddie to get hurt … there was no getting out of this situation now, it was far too late. To escape or to back out of explaining it, there was no way out of it.

He sighed. “Yeah,” he answered, looking at his hands. He tried to force himself to say the name, to explain who it was and why he was having so much trouble with this situation. They could obviously tell that he was a mess because of what happened to Maddie, but they had to know by now that there was more to it then just that. They had to know that this mission had dug up the worst memories and feelings he had ever had, and that despite everything he’d done for the past two years … it had ended so quickly.

“Okay, so what did you do, then? How did this lead to Maddie getting hurt?” Horace asked.

Frowning, Will looked up at his friend. Did he … did he think that the stealer had just been a common criminal? That there was nothing specific about him that messed everything up? “No—No, Horace,” he said. His voice was so low, barely audible. “You don’t understand,” he whispered. “The stealer—” his throat closed up, not able to say the name.

Not able to say his name.

Now Horace and Cassandra were looking at him, waiting for him to finish what he was saying. “The stealer …? The stealer what, Will?” Horace prompted, reaching out to place a hand on Will’s knee.

He looked at it. That simple sign of affection. Of support.

No matter what, Horace had always been there. Even when Will had pushed him away. Even when Will hadn’t wanted him there.

“The stealer … it was … Ruhl. Jory Ruhl.”

Silence. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at either Horace or Cassandra, feeling like he was going to puke. His chest hurt so badly and, as he clenched his fists, he could feel the rope burns throbbing, reminding him of what Ruhl had done. What he had tried to do. His words. He had remembered Alyss, had hung that fact over his head when they had captured Will. He had used Alyss to taunt Will, to make his capture that much worse. Will closed his eyes tightly. His thoughts were swirling, his mind overwhelmed with the anger and despair and hopelessness that he felt at that moment.

“Ruhl,” Horace murmured at his side. Will could hear the shock in his voice. The disbelief.

“I didn’t think he—” Cassandra started, before cutting herself off. Will could picture her covering her mouth with a hand, looking at Horace.

Silence fell between the three of them again, the name sinking in.

Will was sure that things were starting to make sense for his friends, now. With Ruhl being involved, the mission wouldn’t have gone as planned, no matter who was involved. If Gilan had sent another Ranger, it probably would have turned out the same, if not similar, way: Ruhl was wanted for murder and a plethora of other crimes. He had murdered a family member of a Ranger, and that meant that he was wanted by the entire Corps.

“Will …” Horace started to say, but then his words seemed to fail him. He leaned back in his spot, hand slipping from Will’s knee. “ … fuck.”

The silence kept building, and the pain in Will’s chest wasn’t going away. There was so much more to say, so much more to explain, but all Will wanted to do was fall apart and just forget about all of it. It would be so much easier that way. Or, no … it would have been so much easier if he had simply died when Ruhl had intended him to die. If Maddie hadn’t showed up, had actually listened to him and left him behind. He would have died by Jory’s hand, his family heartbroken, but Ruhl would have been a dead man by all accounts—either someone would have gone after him, or Will would have taken him down with him.

It would have been so much easier, and the pain would have ended then. He would have been reunited with Alyss, Jory would die soon after, and it all would have been … done.

It would have been so much easier.

“So you …” Cassandra tried to continue, her voice cracking. “I-I’m assuming you—”

“No,” Will cut in, knowing what she was going to ask. “I know I’ve done some stupid things because of that man, but I wasn’t going to do anything reckless with Maddie around.” He made his voice firm, needing to push that fact. “I treated this like I did any other mission. Once I realized who it was, I tried to keep Maddie at a distance. He had a group of kids locked up, and I wanted to make sure they were out of the way before dealing with him.”

Horace nodded at his side, considering his account as it came. That was another thing about Horace that Will loved—he always took things at face-value. Sometimes it was frustrating and Will had to explain things to him, but other times … other times it was so reassuring, as he always knew that Horace would be there in the end for him.

“I’m guessing you hit two birds with one stone,” Horace continued for him, recalling how Will worked as easily if he had been there with them. “You made a distraction for Ruhl and the others while Maddie got the kids out of there?”

Fidgeting again, Will brought his hand up to his mouth, nibbling on his finger tips. He could taste dirt under his nails, but most notably, he tasted copper. Blood. Something flashed in his eyesight, as if he was once again in that bay area with Ruhl and the other slavers, waiting for the pyre around him to be lit and to be reunited with his wife. His leg started to jump up and down. He normally wasn’t one to give into anxious movements, as they could get him killed in the field. But now, in the safety of the royal apartments, with Horace beside him and Cassandra’s careful gaze on him—he knew that it would be safe for him to let some of it out. If he didn’t, he felt like he might explode.

He closed his eyes. “Yeah,” he whispered, running his hand through his hair. It felt greasy. He hadn’t been able to wash recently, knew that it was probably a mess with dirt, ash, and grease from the past week or so that he and Maddie had been out. “I—it wouldn’t have been safe for them to stay there longer, and we were sure that if we waited until morning, they would be gone. So I got their attention by lighting their tents on fire and shooting down at them. I just needed their attention, so I hadn’t aimed to kill.”

“Only for them to follow after you.”

Will nodded confirmation again. He was back to gnawing at his fingertips. “I think Maddie said someone had still been there, but she was able to dispatch him. She got the kids moving and went as fast as she could get the kids going while I went in the other direction. I—I don’t know for how long I went, but I eventually doubled-back and caught up to them. Before, I had made sure that the slavers following me could see me often enough to follow …”

“But when you went back, you kept hidden.” Once again, Horace finished for him. It made Will want to smile, but he found that he couldn’t. Thinking about it, if anything were to happen between him and Horace, he would be a dead man. Horace knew him so well that if they ended up on the opposite sides for whatever reason, Horace would read his actions so well that no matter what Will did, Horace would see through him.

They would make terrible enemies.

“I eventually caught up to Maddie and the kids,” Will murmured, thoughts going back to that night. A lot of it was blurry, and he honestly couldn’t remember the sequence of events that well. He thought that he might’ve traveled with them for a bit, but that could have been wrong. And he honestly didn’t remember if this was all one night or two or what. “At—at some point, I think,” Will forced himself to continue. To at least say what he remembered of that night. But the further he went, the fuzzier it got. “I went back. Or I stayed and Maddie and the kids left. Ruhl … Ruhl was catching up, and I decided to stay behind to slow them down.”

Next to him, Horace frowned. He saw the knight glance over to Cassandra, who had remained silent during this part. But then, from the corner of Will’s eyes, he saw her sit up in her seat, brushing something unseen off her immaculate nightgown. “Didn’t you just say you’d used your arrows to cause a distraction?” she asked, eyes narrowed in his direction. He looked up momentarily to meet them, but then immediately looked down. “How could you slow them down if you had no arrows?”

“I had arrows,” Will said back, “Not—Not all of them, but I still had a good portion of my arrows.” Then, he found that he couldn’t say the next part. That, in choosing to stay behind without a full quiver, he’d resigned himself to being killed or taken. That he’d let that happen. Numbly, he lifted his feet from the floor, tucking them up and resting his chin on his knees. He wrapped his arms around his legs, holding himself tightly.

But neither Horace nor Cassandra said anything.

“I’m assuming …” Horace started, “from what Maddie said earlier …”

“She said you’d been tied up,” Cassandra continued for her husband. “You’d been captured.”

Silence fell again.

Will felt the heat of fire against his face, the licking flames reaching for him even as they consumed Ruhl’s writhing body. He smelled burnt flesh, heard agonized screams, even though he knew he was huddled in the sitting room of his best friend’s apartment.

Just as he had thought before, he felt whole-heartedly that Ruhl had deserved that ending. But even then, even days later, when Will had had time to think through the actions and recover from the shock, he couldn’t help but feel … heartbroken that Ruhl’s plan had failed. It was all messed up, everything was. Alyss—Alyss never should have died in that way. Alone, trapped in a fire. They didn’t know enough to determine if she had perished in the fall from the collapsed roof, or if she had been burned alive much like Ruhl. Or if she had laid there, praying for help, only to drift away from smoke inhalation. They just didn’t know.

“He remembered me,” Will said flatly, staring at his knees. “He remembered … he remembered her.”

At least … at least if Ruhl’s plan had succeeded, all of his pain would have been gone. He would have been reunited with Alyss, and they wouldn’t ever be separated again.

He found that he couldn’t bring himself to continue speaking. He blinked away the flashing, burning memory, shook the screams of a dying man out of his head, only to feel something slip down his cheeks. He swiped the tears away, looking deliberately away from Horace and Cassandra. He could sense them watching him. Maybe exchanging glances, wanting to know the other’s opinion on what to do. Because really—nothing was ever easy with Will. It always had to take him to hell and back, and sometimes it forgot him in hell.

They knew well enough that Will was broken. He knew they could tell that about him, knew that he was more or less an open book to them, no matter how well he hid any of his feelings. So he knew that they could see him falling to pieces before their very eyes, unable to do anything.

His chest hurt. His head pounded. Things would be so much easier if—

A steady hand rested on his shoulder. Will immediately pulled his shoulder away, dropping his legs to the floor and attempting to stand. He wanted to pace. To do something. To run.

But of course he couldn’t do that. The moment he stood, something in his ankle burned and he felt one of his legs give out. He started to fall forwards, but an arm went around his waist, pulling him back towards the couch and into the soft cushions.

“Will—” Horace started, pulling away from Will, knowing that he wanted distance, but still needed checking visually to see if he was okay.

“—no,” Will choked out, once against pushing away from Horace. “No, Horace, I—”

“Just breathe,” Horace whispered to him. “Look at me, or Cass, or something Will, and breathe.”

His voice was grounding. He’d done this in the past, Will recalled vaguely. When things seemed overwhelming and Will would try to focus on everything instead of one thing, and Horace—Horace would just talk and pull him out of those holes before he had even realized what had happened. But this time, this time Will just found that he couldn’t.

“I can’t.” He closed his eyes, putting his palms over his face and trying to do literally anything to regain control. His skin crawled, his mind was blurry, his hearing was going in and out. His throat burned and, for a moment, he remembered that he had felt like puking earlier, before he had fallen asleep.

“That’s okay,” Horace’s voice came, barely audible.

How does one tell his family that he wished that he had burned?

After everything, he wanted to say that they would agree. He had failed at protecting Maddie, after all, so there would be no point in keeping him around. He was useless, broken beyond repair.

“Just breathe,” Horace murmured, voice soft and soothing.

And yet.

And yet they stayed.

“I’m here.”

Voices spoke around him, fast and low. Footsteps exited the room, only for a hand to pick up Will’s own hand, and place it on something. He felt the steady beat of a heart, the rise and fall of a chest, and, instinctively, Will matched the rhythm of their breathing. If he didn’t … well, if he didn’t, he didn’t know what would happen. He might pass out, or fall deeper into his panic. The other hand of the person—Horace, obviously Horace—rested on his shoulder, and gently pulled him forward. Will’s forehead fell onto Horace’s shoulder. He kept his eyes closed tightly, until he started sobbing into Horace’s shoulder, unable to contain it any longer.

“It’s my fault,” his voice cracked, “Maddie’s hurt because of me, because I couldn’t protect her.”

Horace’s grip around him tightened, and he closed his eyes to his own tears that were coming. If what Maddie said earlier was accurate, though …

“She got hurt because of me,” Will repeated, needing Horace to know that fact. That he was holding onto the person responsible for Maddie’s injury.

Instead, though, Horace held Will as tightly as he could, needing him to know that he didn’t blame him. That no one blamed him. “No, Will,” the knight whispered, closing his eyes. “You saved her.”

The sobs wracked Will’s body, jerking him in Horace’s embrace. They stayed like that, for who knows how long, as Will just let the emotions out—everything, everything from Alyss to Maddie to the darkness that had consumed him for so long. Tears dripped from his face, until eventually, his mind simply shut off, body and mind completely exhausted … but secure in the fact that he was safe.

Horace put his arm around Will, keeping one hand on Will’s hand where he had rested it on his chest. It was the only thing he had thought to do—Will hadn’t been listening to words, so actions had to suffice. Cassandra returned from their kitchenette, a cup of water in hand and an extra blanket thrown over her shoulder. She placed the cup on the table behind Horace before raising an eyebrow at her husband in confusion. She nodded at Will wordlessly, causing Horace to look down and see that Will wasn’t conscious any longer.

He didn’t know if that was good or bad, but at least it allowed him to get Will where he needed him to be in order to help him. He went to pull Will’s limp body back to lay on the couch, but something stopped him. He looked back at Cassandra, to which she leaned forward and murmured in his ear. “Stay with him,” she said, “We don’t know how he’ll react if he woke up alone again.”

Nodding, Horace continued with what he was going to do, but instead of slipping out, he stayed in his spot. Horace leaned back, pulling Will along with him to lay on the couch. The way he ended up though, Will was halfway on top of him, his head resting just below Horace’s shoulder. Cassandra looked down on them, before smiling sadly and tossing a blanket at the two of them.

“Try to get some rest, too,” Cass murmured, before leaning forward to place a kiss on Horace’s forehead. Her hand hesitated on Will’s head, ruffling his hair momentarily.

“We can talk to Maddie tomorrow about the rest of it,” Horace breathed back, closing his eyes. “He doesn’t need to get it out right away. Not right now.”

* * *

It was almost past eleven when the healer finally left, satisfied that Maddie’s wounds were cleaned and properly cared for. She had had to listen to the woman tut at the state of the wound, even as she murmured her shock at Maddie even being alive considering the size of the wound. Against her better judgment (she just wanted to know where Uncle Will was), Maddie remained still, allowing the bandages to be redone. Anytime the healer made a comment about her uncle's work, though, saying it wasn’t standard, Maddie immediately jumped to his defense. It had saved her, hadn’t it? It had worked. Why, then, did it matter if it wasn’t standard or not?

When the healer finally left, after everything, she thankfully left behind two crutches for Maddie to use, demanding that she not use them frequently and that she got help if she was going to be moving far or often.

The woman wasn’t even out of the hallway by the time Maddie had flung herself towards the crutches, needing to get up and moving without the assistance of anyone. In the time it took her to get down the hall, though, the woman was already gone and Maddie had confirmed that Uncle Will wasn’t in the guest bedroom. It was empty, save for his boots and cloak that were thrown about as if he hadn’t thought to remove them until after he had fallen into the bed. She shook her head; for someone always nagging her to clean up after herself, he did tend to leave a mess wherever he went.

“Maddie?” her mother rounded the corner of the hallway just as she was turning away from the room.

She smiled tiredly, happy to see that her mother looked somewhat rested and put together. The princess-regent wore black tights with a red tunic, covered with what looked to be one of Maddie’s father’s jackets. Seeing this, Maddie figured that her mother didn’t plan on doing any work today. She tended to dress more like what people expected a princess-regent to look like when she was doing work. “Hi Mum.”

“Should you be—”

“Miss Tambry left them for me, mum,” Maddie said immediately, knowing what was going to be said. “She said I could use them as long as I’m not going long distances and that I don’t use them, like, twenty times a day.”

Hesitantly, Cassandra nodded, stepping out of the way for Maddie to get into the sitting area.

When she did, though, Maddie immediately noticed the two lumps bundled together under a blanket on the biggest couch.

She turned back to her mother, eyebrows raised.

Cassandra beat her to it, though, shaking her head and pointing Maddie in the direction of their dining table. A large breakfast was set out, steam still rising from the different foods that the servants had brought up for them. Her mouth started to water … but her eyes went back to the forms on the couch.

“Is everything alright?” she asked quietly, staring. She could just barely see the top of her father’s head, eyes closed as he continued to sleep despite their words. She hadn’t spoken quietly until she had seen them. But her father remained asleep, she could also see that someone else was with him, head tucked just under her fathers.

Her mother didn’t respond right away, looking over to consider the two men herself. But then the princess-regent simply smiled and shook her head. “We’re yet to find out,” she whispered. Finally, she started nudging Maddie towards the table. “Get something to eat,” her mother said, “and then we can talk. Your uncle … he needs time.”

Maddie thought back to when she first woke up after getting injured. She had been hungry, asking after breakfast right when she woke up, before the pain registered. But then Will had broken down next to her, laughing and crying and not being able to control himself. Since then, she couldn’t help but notice how Will was acting. He was almost manic, in a way: fidgeting where he normally would be still, snapping at the smalled things but then immediately regretting it.She didn’t know how to explain it to her mother, and while she knew that her uncle definitely wasn’t okay right now … she had a feeling that he was on the right path. Something about the way he had reacted to seeing her, after she had woken up, told her that. She remembered Halt saying something about how things get worse before they get better, and she hadn’t understood him right away. But, she supposed, when it came to Uncle Will, Halt probably knew best—and that meant that Will just had to get past this, and things might start looking better.

“Maddie?” her mother’s voice broke through the cloud of her thoughts, pulling her back to the present.

“Don’t let him hide this, mom,” Maddie suddenly said. She didn’t know why, but she felt that she had to let her mother know this. “Don’t let him avoid talking about this.” The young apprentice shook her head, before finally turning as her mother asked, and moving slowly towards the dining table on her crutches. “He needs to talk to someone.” Maddie plopped herself down in her usual chair, reaching for a steaming biscuit. She bit into it before anything else, not even waiting for things further down the table to be moved towards her. Fuck, she was starving.

“We won’t,” Cassandra responded, shockingly answering the comment rather then inquiring as to where it had come from. But then her mother crossed her arms and stared down at her daughter. “Get your elbows off the table, love, you’re going to hurt your back sitting like that.”


End file.
